


Part 1: The End

by orphan_account



Series: The End and the Beginning [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Flashbacks, Loss, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's hard to accept the truth.





	

_Pilot error._

The cold voice coming from lifeless speakers spoke of the situation in a tone that would pass off as bored. Factual. Uncaring. Each name he read, from Matt Holt, to his father, to Takashi Shirogane, it was a voice that held no remorse. No sympathy. The words were hallow, echoing in Keith's ears, the room fading out from around him as the edges of his vision adopted a sickening green tint as he just stared at the screen. 

_All members are presumed dead._

Keith could feel his fingers go numb, the life draining from his body down onto the hard tile beneath his boots. He was aware of hushed murmurs around him, of people staring at him, staring at the television, staring at the floor or walls. He was aware of the fact that the room was spinning, and if the world happened to end right there, he wouldn't have cared at all.

### I.

_"It's just a year, Keith," Shiro murmured, his hand caressing Keith's cheek as he leaned in close, their breath mingling between them. "Don't give me that pout. You know we'll still be able to communicate...in reality, I don't know how well, but we'll manage. All right?"_

_Keith pursed his lips, his mouth thinning as he nodded quietly. He was angry, to say the least. Irrationally so. Not at Shiro, or at least, not so much Shiro as it was directed at the Garrison. It was hard to put into words and even more so in Shiro's presence. They hadn't been dating for _that_ long, but to Keith, it made it all the worse. Keith hated himself for feeling like this._

_"It's just a year, baby," Shiro murmured, rubbing his thumb underneath Keith's eye, catching a tear he hadn't even notice slip down his cheek. He sniffled as he turned his head away, reaching up to hide his face in his hand. This was unfair, and Keith was selfish and impulsive and wanted to yell at Shiro and be angry, but he just couldn't. Not when this was so important to Shiro._

_After he took a moment and a deep breath, Keith nodded, finally turning back to face Shiro properly. "Just a year," he repeated, reaching out to hold Shiro's hands in his and squeeze them, gently. "Just a year..."_

### II.

A few days later, Keith found himself back in the shack. Over their time together in the Garrison, it had become a home for Shiro and Keith, acting as their own private getaway from the stress and responsibilities of their classes and training. Many weekends were spent in their little shack, where they'd decorated it to their liking with their own and stolen possessions alike. It had become the only home Keith had really known, despite its existence having been a complete accident. They had just been driving aimlessly one night, ut it had been their happy coincidence to find it. 

Keith stood in the middle of the living space, his chest empty as he looked at the walls. They'd had them plastered in all manner of posters and photos, and scraps of paper and ribbons and Christmas lights. His gaze glossed over the floor, where the cheap space heaters sat in the corners, to the dingy couch they had dragged all the way out there for them to sleep on. He looked at their shitty table, a plank of wood held up by three cinder blocks on each side of it but something Shiro called couture, or...whatever.

Most importantly, though, Keith sought out their old Polaroid camera. He grabbed it gently from where it sat upon the windowsill, fingers reaching for the most recent photo they had taken. It was one of just Shiro, sitting on the couch with a doofy grin on his face and a big red sweater on. He had bought it two or three months ago, insisting they both needed something like that for how cold it could get in those desert nights. So Shiro had bought them matching sweaters. 

Keith sank onto the couch as he stared at the photo, the camera falling carelessly to the floor. It sounded like it broke, like something had shattered. In that moment, where reality seemed to just have stopped working for him, he just didn't care.

### III.

_"This place is a dump," Keith rasped, covering his rasping coughs up with a hand. "I really do have to wonder who was living out here. Was it some crazy person looking for a cryptid? Aliens?" He shook out his broom for the billionth time that hour, watching the dust kick up around himself and dance in the wind._

_Shiro laughed, throwing a moldy blanket outside and watching as the wind carried it away. "Maybe," he said, resting his hands upon his hips as he looked around. "But it'll be real nice when we clean it up. It'll just take some time and patience. We'll get there." He offered Keith a soft, reassuring smile. "Being able to share it with you in the end will make it even better, too._

_"I guess," Keith mused, smiling to himself as he threw more trash into a bag they had sitting outside, narrowly avoiding to paint Shiro in desert sand and dirt. "Let's just hope this isn't some place people come out here on a whim to fuck, though. I mean, I don't know who would want to do that, considering the state it's in now, but..." He shook his head, his expression souring. Luckily he hadn't spotted any suspicious stains yet, though._

_Keith heard Shiro laughing, and he couldn't help but laugh with him. "Oh, god, if that's the case, please just take me away from here and agree we'll never talk about that again."_

### III.

Keith buried his face in his hands, a shuddering sigh escaping his throat. It'd been a month. Maybe two months, now, of nothing. Just sitting alone, barely of a mind to feed and shower himself. His old hobbies faded away into one of sitting out on the shack's porch, staring up at a vast sky full of teasing, twinkling stars. _We've taken him,_ they almost seemed to say. In some weird star Morse code, they did nothing but taunt Keith, hanging up there as a constant reminder. _We took him, and you can't have him back._

Keith wondered how he should feel. He wondered if he should be happy for Shiro, dying somewhere out there he claimed to love so much. He wondered if it was a quick and painless death. He wondered when it had happened. He wondered how it happened. He wondered why it happened. 

It had all just happened so quickly that Keith hadn't even gotten a single letter from Shiro. Keith could only assume he'd just been too far out for the signals and transmissions. Keith also assumed Shiro had just forgotten. After all, that was easy to do with a person like Keith. All of this time sitting out here by himself, and not a single word on if he'd been missed or not. According to the radios, after his expulsion, no one even bothered to send someone out to look for him. 

Again, Keith didn't know if he should be happy or sad about this. He just felt so numb. Everything and nothing swirled inside of his head almost constantly. Something deep in his chest tugged at his heart to get up, to look for something, to prepare himself for something inevitable. What that was, he didn't know, but he was positive he didn't want to know. The most he could do was just sit there all day and night, his gaze cast skyward. Deep down inside of him, he wanted to believe Shiro was still alive. The rest of him was a rational man, and he knew it just wasn't possible, not up there. No miracle was up there to save anyone and keep them alive. He knew that well. 

Keith grit his teeth, his gaze fixed on those damned stars. He wondered if it was worth it in the end for Shiro. If Shiro hadn't cared and come to terms with things and accepted the possibility. He wondered if it had been unfair for Shiro, and if he cried and screamed out for help. Help that would ring wordlessly in the vast emptiness of space. 

Keith wondered so many god damn things, and he wished it would all shut up and go away. He was determined to move on, because in the end, he had to move on. He had to figure out what happened for Shiro's sake. Part of him still believed it wasn't just a tragic mistake on Shiro's part. It couldn't have been. Shiro was the best damn pilot out there, and he'd lost count of how many times everyone had said that.

Keith bit his lip, looking down at his hands. He'd find out what happened to Shiro one way or the other. He didn't care how long it would take him, or crazy this all seemed. Shiro deserved better than this, though, and Keith was determined to make that known.


End file.
